Not Like the Movies
by Love2Love
Summary: Draco has decided to propose to Hermione after three years of total happiness. Based on the success stories he's seen in movies, Titanic issues aside, he thinks it would be best to follow their examples. Unfortunately, real life isn't like the movies.


**Author's Note: This is a little something I've been working on for the last couple of days, and is meant to be read as a fun sort of departure from reality and the places where logical reasoning reigns supreme. That being said, please don't take this story incredibly seriously—go with the flow. That's how I wrote it and I would like you all to read it. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the movies that I reference—Catch and Release, Sweet Home Alabama, While You Were Sleeping, Mean Girls, The Vow, Pride and Prejudice, Titanic, Ten Things I Hate About You, Pretty Woman, The Proposal, A Walk to Remember, Kim Possible, What a Girl Wants, Raise Your Voice, The Break Up and Legally Blonde. Some of them are quoted, some are almost quoted, and some are simply referenced. I do not claim any rights whatsoever to them, or any other movies I may inadvertently refer to. I also threw in a reference to Bohemian Rhapsody—also do not own it.**

There were many aspects of Draco's twenty-seven year old life that, as a seventeen year old, he certainly never would have expected. He'd never imagined that his favourite wall paint colour would be a kind of faded eggplant called Baba Skidoosh, or that he would obtain a muggle cellphone and become moderately proficient at using it. He hadn't thought that he would end up not only working in the Ministry, but would head a new branch that was formed after the conclusion of the ambiguously termed War, which basically included any Death Eater or Voldemort based activity in the years leading up to Voldemort's ultimate downfall.

He hadn't expected that, after two years with Pansy Parkinson and nearly three with Astoria Greengrass, he would break up with the only two women he'd ever realistically thought he could spend the rest of his life with. He hadn't imagined that, one year into his professed Era of Independence, he would have to call in Hermione Granger to work through the penultimate task of reforming the highly corrupted Wizengamot, and that over the course of discussing the particulars of wizarding laws and traditions, he would realize that her life had taken a few unexpected turns as well.

Without a doubt the thing he had expected the very least of all was to fall in love with Hermione Granger and begin a tentative but solid relationship with her after having spent one year dragging himself across broken glass to prove the seriousness of his declarations. Almost literally. At one point, a small group of insurgents had decided it would be best to attack the department that was so obviously a child of Voldemort's downfall. His offices had been attacked while Hermione was consulting, and one of the big cabinets they kept folders in shattered. Hermione had been knocked unconscious and he had actually crawled across the broken glass to reach her, where he held her in his arms until help came along. It was a story Draco enjoyed telling, even when Hermione interjected that he'd only done it because he'd lost his grip on his wand and it had rolled over beside her. He usually managed to stop her before she mentioned coming to only to find him poking her side with his wand and muttering "heal" repeatedly under his breath.

In any case, so much of what had happened in his life had been unexpected, but it was also the very best thing that had ever happened to him. This was why Draco, after serious contemplation, had decided that after the best three years of his life he wanted to marry Hermione Granger and forever besmirch the Malfoy family line.

However, that brought along the inevitable issue of asking said woman for her hand in marriage. He was especially worried because she had been so hesitant to even consider going out for a drink with him, which was his initial request after he'd blurted out his feelings instead of asking her opinion of the Third Amendment to Wizengamot criminal procedure. After a few minutes of attempting to backtrack and then convince her that he'd been slipped a mind addling potion in his coffee he'd proceeded to avoid her for a week, until he accepted the feelings he hadn't quite realized he'd had and asked her out. The immediate rejection that followed had been quite a shock and he'd once again attempted to pass off the explanation of a potion slip, which she was not impressed by. Hermione enjoyed telling that story, but she seemed to enjoy watching his reaction to it even more.

His eyes flicked up from The Prophet to where she sat at their breakfast table, a piece of toast held loosely in her hand, and once again reflected on the fact that he was probably the luckiest man in the entire world. And, given that he'd become fairly close to the Boy-Who-Lived and knew a significant bit more about his history, that was certainly a significant claim.

"I'm meeting Diane after work for a few drinks," Hermione told him, her eyes quickly scanning through her agenda. "It's supposed to be sort of a meeting, so I'm afraid I can't invite you."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "It's a miracle Diane is still employed. All she ever does is go out for professional drinks. I don't think she got the memo that it's not professional to show everyone at the table your trick for slipping your bra off through your sleeve."

Taking a gulp of tea and grimacing when it burned her tongue Hermione stood. "Yes well, we're partnering on this next case and it's a big one so I'll make do. I'll see you later!"

"Bye," Draco kissed her quickly and stood in their kitchen until he heard the door to their flat close with a _click_.

After waiting for ten seconds he hurriedly pulled out parchment and a quill from one of the drawers beside the sink. One of the perks of being the head of the Wizarding Reform and Recognition Department was that if he didn't think he was needed, he could take the day off. In smooth, flowing script he wrote _Romantic Ideas from Movies_.

Approximately three weeks after Harry and Ginny had gotten married Hermione had spent an entire weekend watching romantic comedies and dramas and a few tragedies practically non-stop on the television set she'd lugged into their flat one day. After warily checking to make sure she wasn't going nutty he'd ended up joining her for a few, and, while Hermione drank nearly a full bottle of wine, had realized the value of muggle movies. They were practically manuals on how to go about anything in a romantic way, and the best part was that even though the characters made so many mistakes, _they still won in the end._ Except for the tragedies, such as the Titanic. It was during that weekend that Hermione had first broached the subject of marriage, only in so far as to say "I always thought I'd be married by the time I was 26." A tiny seed had been planted in Draco's mind, and his present determination was the result.

In preparation for his proposal to Hermione he intended to make a list of things movies had showed were successful in wooing women so he could manipulate them to fit his needs.

_After a fight, stay over at a friend's house. Something will go wrong and you will be able to come to her aid to prove your love. _

_If there is a death, it can be seen as an opportunity to develop new love. (Catch and Release)_

_Talk to a pet, dead or alive, about love troubles. It always helps if they overhear you. (Sweet Home Alabama)_

_Send witty emails back and forth, it will foster a loving relationship. (You're Got Mail)_

_Sometimes a massive lie can be overlooked if most people are happy in the end. (While You Were Sleeping)_

_If you save her purse from being mugged, your chances look good. (Mean Girls.)_

_If you show up at their signature haunt, so will they and you can have an emotionally uplifting conversation with incredible romantic implications. (The Vow)_

_If you haven't seen her in a really long time, she may still say yes to your proposal even if you ignored her in London (Pride and Prejudice)_

_Say something romantic that will have significance later on, she will take it to heart. (Titanic)_

_Make a list of ten things you hate about someone, they will realize you love them. (10 Things I Hate About You)_

_If you arrive outside her door in a limo with flowers, it shows that fairy tale endings are possible and it's okay that she used to be a prostitute. (Pretty Woman)_

_Conning someone into marrying you sometimes ends very well. (The Proposal)_

He pursed his lips and tapped his quill thoughtfully against the page. Things with Hermione were good—fantastic, really. So if he was going to experience some of the most intense points on the list, he would have to start a fight with her. Probably not the best idea, given that Hermione in a fight was something akin to a Blast Ended Skrewt being swung around on the end of a chain, but it would be necessary.

A few hours later Draco had a comprehensive plan of action and, by 5 O'clock he was ready to begin the first phase. When Hermione left her office she found him leaning against the wall, waiting.

"Draco? Is everything alright?" She seemed surprised and he suppressed a smirk.

"I just thought we could walk to the bar," Draco said and reached out to take her hand. "It would be quaint."

"Er, okay." Her brows furrowed as they began to walk down the corridor. "Although The Dreamer's Quill is very close to muggle London, so—"

"Don't let go of my hand," he turned to gaze imploringly at her, trying to convey that his love was so strong he would willingly float in icy water while she rested atop a piece of door frame that may or may not have been able to hold the pair of them, depending on whose tumblr one looked at.

"Your—sorry?"

"Hermione, don't let go. Of my hand."

"Okay," she stared as she tucked a strand of hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ear. "I've heard it's supposed to snow more, so I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"We'll see what fate has in store for us," he smiled indulgently and they walked down the street together.

Draco hadn't realized quite how long the walk was actually going to be until they'd been walking for awhile, and Hermione wouldn't stop glancing at her watch. At first he'd thought she was gazing with adoration at their joined hands, until he noticed she craned her head at a strange angle so she could read the watch head. Then clouds rolled in and began to spit first water droplets then snow at them, which he pretended not to notice until it became a significant enough problem that they just apparated the rest of the way.

"Enjoy your drinks," he smiled brightly at her as she flapped one corner of her shirt, trying to dry the water that darkened the lavender material. "I hope it was a good walk. A walk to remember, one might say."

"I…" She looked up from what she was doing and inclined her head forward, as if it would help her figure out his strange behaviour. "I'll see you back at the flat."

"Call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me!" He waved cheerily and disappeared, resisting the urge to do a karate kick on the way out.

* * *

"Look!" Draco exclaimed over breakfast the next morning as an owl tapped on their kitchen window and he went to open it, wincing as it brought in cold air and snowflakes with it. "Looks like you've got mail!" He chuckled as the bird flew to Hermione and stuck its leg out for her. She accepted the letter and set about reading it as Draco shut the window after the bird and took his seat.

"Oh dear," Hermione said and Draco raised his eyebrows in inquiry, sipping his tea.

"What is it?"

"This letter," she said with a frown, flipping it over to look at the back. "It's similar to the creepy fan mail Harry gets sometimes. I got a few several years back, when people thought I was some fascinating hero, but this one is especially strange."

"Can I read?" He asked and tried to sound casual, accepting the letter from her. Draco skimmed over it to prove he was actually reading it, in case she was watching, even though he knew exactly what it said because he'd written it the night before.

_Dear witchgirl,_

_I decided to address this letter with the above affectionate moniker because I think it makes things both more personal and impersonal—I know the most important part of your life, but I also don't pretend to be intimately acquainted with it._

_I lead a small life—valuable, no doubt. But it is small. There are moments when I wonder if I live this life because I truly like it, or because I have been scared to take other risks and fully adopt some kind of alternate, brave persona._

_People say that change is good, but isn't change just an event that takes place even though you don't want it to, and you are forced to embrace it and say hey, change is good because you have no other option?_

_I ponder these things, sometimes, and often feel as if I am a lone reed in doing so. But I can't help but think, perhaps, that you, too, are a lone reed in this sense. Both of us doomed to wonder about the questions that most of society simply ignores or doesn't dare think about._

_London67_

"Sounds friendly enough, don't you think?" He finally looked up and shrugged. He'd nearly taken direct lines out of the movie to fill the body of the letter and he could distinctly remember Hermione sighing when the two main characters exchanged their correspondence. To be honest, he'd kind of imagined a scene similar to the end where they would send letters for a couple weeks and Hermione would become torn over who to choose, Draco her amazing lover or the mysterious London67, before they would meet in the garden and she would tear up and let herself be gathered in his arms and murmur "I wanted it to be you."

"Draco," she shook her head at him, dragging him from his reverie, an incredulous smile working its way to her lips. "People do not just randomly decide to send philosophizing letters to people they do not know! This is strange. It's weird, though, a lot of this letter sounds very familiar and I can't figure out why."

"Maybe he's married!" He couldn't stop himself from saying, because the line had gone over pretty well in the movie.

Her eyes narrowed, as if she was trying to figure out if he was quite alright. "It doesn't matter if he is or isn't married. I'll have to set up a charm on the flat to make sure no more of his, or her, letters gets through."

"I'll do it!" Draco interjected a bit too hastily, if the look she shot him was any indication.

Hermione leaned forward with a small smirk. "If this is an attempt to assert your masculinity and prove that you can take care of me, don't worry."

"Oh trust me," he titled his head back and laughed. "It's not. I think I've done enough of _that_ in the past, what with the broken glass, and—"

"Poking me and muttering 'heal' in the place of any useful spells?" She laughed and stood up, carrying her bowl to the sink.

He followed her, slipping his hands onto her hips. "I got a bit panicked _one_ time! What would you do if the love of your life was lying unconscious on the ground and crazy people were running around trying to turn you into a toad?"

"Hopefully I'll never find out," she looked at him seriously. A lot more seriously than he really wanted the conversation to be, which he'd thought was clear when he'd thrown in the bit about the toad.

"Besides," he said, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear. "I rather thought you enjoyed my poking."

Hermione shivered and his hands tightened, but then she ruined a perfectly good moment by slipping away and saying, "I need to get to work."

"Me too," Draco agreed, mildly disappointed that she hadn't decided to abandon work for the day and let him ravish her instead. "I'll, er, deal with the letter issue."

"Okay," she smiled at him as she grabbed her bag, which was bulging with books and folders, and then left their flat. He strode to the table, where he re-read the letter and then proceeded to rip it into many different pieces and set fire. Just to make sure there was no evidence.

It was time to accelerate the plan.

* * *

Working in a field that consisted of revising set-in-stone principles, procedures and traditions often came down to tedious nit-picking and contract revisions, but even by their usual worst-day standards it was an exceptionally boring day. He was going over the final edits they'd made to the foreign policy negotiations between various classes of business groups, and it was terribly dry. The only break he took was for lunch, when he specifically planned to walk by Hermione when she was on her way to the Ministry's tiny cafeteria to get her 12 O'clock cuppa. In _Pride and Prejudice _Jane had gone to London to seek Mr. Bingley but he had been completely ignorant of her having been there. However, Jane had still said yes to his proposal so he figured the idea had some merit. So when Hermione looked surprised and waved to him he had walked right by. He picked up a celebratory tea biscuit and then resumed work in his office. However, his good mood deflated and by the time he arrived home he had a dreadful headache and was in a somewhat sour mood.

Hermione was in the shower when he arrived and, rather than join her like he might have another day, he collapsed face-first on their bed and tried to muster up the energy to carry on with the plan. He briefly considered scrapping it and living mostly stress-free with her for the remainder of their days, but couldn't keep himself from thinking back to her confession about her expectations for her age of matrimony, which she had so obviously surpassed. Not only that, but he couldn't help but think with pride of the idea of Hermione joining the Malfoy family—the epitome of the pre-War era blended with that of the post-War. Not to mention the fact that he was fairly certain it would annoy his father, and he always enjoyed making his father's eye twitch when he was conflicted between the socially accepted response and the one that had been beaten into him from birth.

All those things were just bonuses, of course. The real reason he wanted to marry Hermione was that he genuinely and truly loved her. Somehow a combination of her obsessive organization and ridiculous knowledge about anything she'd read had completely captivated him. He loved watching her make coffee in the morning, or fall asleep reading on the couch at night, and that sometimes he was pretty sure she pretended to be sleepier than she was just so that he would carry her into their room. He loved that she had a true appreciation for a glass of wine, not because it made her feel sophisticated but because she _was_ sophisticated, and could look sophisticated when she was sitting amidst a pile of bubbles as high as her ears in the bathtub with flushed cheeks, and when she was fretting over her inability to tend to the several failed herb gardens that had met their death on their kitchen window sill. Hermione was the kind of woman that other women aspired to be, and the most amazing thing was that she wasn't _trying_ to be that person. So of course it made logical sense that they should marry—women wanted to be Hermione, and they wanted to be _with_ Draco. Perfect fit.

"Are you going to change before we leave?" He'd been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn't heard her footsteps padding into the room before she'd spoken.

"Leave?" He rolled over and leaned on one elbow.

"To meet Harry, Ginny, Victoria and Ron." Hermione replied, brushing her wet hair and tugging her head as she drag the comb through the knots.

"Oh, right." He'd forgotten that they'd planned on going out for dinner and dragged himself up.

"You don't have to go, if you don't want to." She watched his movement in the mirror, pausing in the act of putting in one of the pearl earrings he'd given her.

"I'm sure Ron would like that," he said darkly, which he knew wasn't exactly true and that he was being immature.

"Sorry?" Her voice was pitched low, which was a clear warning sign that she had heard exactly what he'd said and hadn't been very impressed with it.

Yet he couldn't make himself stop. "You showing up without me would show a weakness in the chain that he could capitalize on."

Her hands stilled momentarily as they fastened a necklace around her neck and then finished the action. Hermione turned to look at him, her arms folding over her chest. "Capitalize on?"

"Come on, Hermione, you know _exactly_ what I mean!" He gestured with his hand and then threaded it through his hair, rubbing at his scalp. "He never fully got over you, and he hated our relationship when we started dating so I'm sure he'd just be _delighted_ if he thought we were having problems. Might think you'd give him another chance, even."

"Draco, you're ridiculous!" Hermione snapped, pressing her tongue against the inside of her lips and looking to the ceiling. "Ron and I were finished a _long _time before we started dating and you _know_ that the reason he didn't encourage our relationship was the same as Harry's—they were both convinced you were an immature snob! Obviously over the last few years you've proved them wrong, so can you get a hold of yourself and start behaving like the grown man that I know and our friends would like to see tonight?"

He took a deep breath and counted to three. This was not the time for their fight to take place, and he certainly didn't intend for it to be about something that had been a significant issue between them in the past. "Sorry. Headache. I'll be ready in five."

"I'll be waiting in the living room," she said, her voice frosty, and left him standing alone in their room. He briefly wondered what her reaction would be if he walked into the living room and dropped to one knee before her, but restrained himself and changed his clothes for dinner.

When the couple arrived at The Toad's Toes Draco was fairly certain they were still visibly tense, if the way Harry's eyes flickered between them was any indication. Nevertheless, the group settled in and chatted easily about the daily goings-on in their lives, with humorous anecdotes from Harry and Ron and the retelling of a difficult case Hermione had had to encounter. It wasn't until pudding and tea that Harry and Ginny exchanged a look and the former sat up straighter. "There's actually something we'd like to tell you."

Draco hadn't realized he was watching Hermione until he saw her eyes move from Harry to Ginny and then widen, the beginnings of a smile opening her mouth.

"We're, erm," Ginny looked at Harry and then turned back to them. "I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby."

"Oh, _Ginny_!" Hermione gushed, reaching across the table to grasp her hand. "That's fantastic! Oh, Harry, congratulations!"

"Thanks," Ginny's grin was rivalled only by Harry's, who was smiling more than Draco had ever seen.

"How far along are you?" Victoria exclaimed, her hands clasped in front of her chest.

"A little over three months."

"You got my sister pregnant," Ron said finally and they all turned to look at him when he paused. "Well, someone had to do it! Congratulations, mate. Ginny. You know, I always wondered what you would've looked like with red hair," he continued speculatively, surveying Harry. "Maybe we'll find out!"

"I sincerely hope not," Ginny said with a laugh and leaned against Harry's shoulder. Draco was hit with an inexplicable _ache_ somewhere in his chest, not quite jealousy and not yet envy, just a kind of wonder and want to be in that same position, with Hermione leaning against him, their hands pressed against her stomach.

"Congratulations, both of you." Draco said sincerely, "I would propose a toast, but that would be slightly problematic, given your condition."

"Thanks," Harry smiled at him, _that _look in his eyes that he always had when he looked at Draco. As if there was something hidden in Draco that he was trying to find, or he was looking upon someone who had exceeded all his expectations, or he couldn't figure out, or, occasionally, something akin to respect.

"A sober toast, then." Hermione said with a laugh and she lifted her tea cup, her eyes glassy. "To Harry and Ginny!"

Draco lifted his cup and waited briefly while the rest followed suit and, murmuring the toast, their glasses met in the middle of the table with a clink.

* * *

When they arrived home Draco could tell immediately that Hermione was still angry. She said 'thank-you' as she walked through the door he held open for her, which she'd stopped doing in favour of a sweet smile a long time ago. Occasionally there was a door-frame kiss, which were his favourites because they often resulted in her tugging him inside in favour of activities best kept behind closed doors. She kicked off her shoes and, without toeing them into sitting straight and parallel to each other left them leaning against the wall and strode straight to the bedroom.

Draco slid his jacket off, grimacing slightly as he wondered how long she would be. He was beginning to think she wasn't going to try and talk when she came striding back out. "What happened at dinner?" She demanded, hands resting on her hips.

It was so completely not what he'd been expecting her to say that he blinked in surprise. "Er, what? I wasn't aware that anything out of the ordinary happened."

"'I would toast you but I can't because of your condition?'" She used air quotes, which was typically a bad sign, so he refrained from pointing out that she had nowhere near quoted him verbatim.

"It's the truth! Toasting a pregnant woman is rude—she can't toast with you, she can't drink!" He didn't even know what he was trying to defend and felt his hackles rise.

"But her condition? Like she has some kind of illness or something! Is the idea of children _so_ repulsive to yo—"

"Whoa wait, hold on there! _What_ are you even talking about? Hermione—we've talked about this before, I want children." He stared at her, unsure of what was going on inside her head. Not knowing was remarkably unsettling.

"You've mentioned that you want an _heir_," she snapped, pacing across the carpet.

"Of course I want an heir, it's a pureblood tradition—"

"I know that. Just because I'm muggleborn doesn't mean I don't know anything about wizard tradit—"

"Are you off your rocker?" She turned an outraged face on him and he pressed on, "No, really. I've been in love with you for almost three years and you think I don't know that you know these things? You know that you being muggleborn is not a problem for me, we've _talked_ about this! Hermione, these problems are _years _old, I thought we'd passed this! What in the hell is going on with you?"

"With me?" Her lower lip trembled, "What's going on with_ you_? Lately you've been acting completely—completely _bizarre_. You've been avoiding having serious conversations with me, you've been trying to be close to me one second and isolated the next. I _know_ you ignored me at the Ministry today, and this morning you were calling me the love of your life! It's like—I just…"

"Like what?" He demanded, folding his arms over his chest. "Tell me more about what my actions mean, because apparently they signify all sorts of things I didn't know, like not wanting to have children and being a wanker about your birth—"

"It seems like you're picking fights because you're looking for a reason for us not to work out!" She burst out, her hands hovering in the air at the end of her gesture, and she let them fall to her sides.

There was a moment of silence, and then Draco's complete incredulity turned into a combination of anger and upset that she'd ever come to that conclusion. "Are you _serious_? Hermione, I—" He fumbled with what to say and resorted hurriedly to his plan, "Hermione, you've bewitched me. Mind, body and sou—"

"Draco, _stop_ it! Stop! Why do you keep talking like this?" Palm pressed to her forehead she sucked in a deep breath. "I don't know what is going on between us right now, but it's confusing and distracting and upsetting and I really don't want to do it anymore."

"You want to know what's going on? I'll let you know," he could feel the dark part of himself that kept the acid all bottled up break loose. "I just tried to tell you that I _love_ you and you told me to stop. Are you sure _I'm_ the one who wants this to end? Because it seems like tonight all you've been doing is dragging up old arguments—all the ones we had to hash out before we fully committed to each other, because they were all the reasons we didn't think we'd make it."

"If you honestly think that after all this time I am trying to sabotage our relationship you are crazy. Absolutely crazy."

"You know what? I'm done right now." He raised his hands in the air, "I don't want to talk about this anymore. We both need to cool off. I'm going to Goyle's."

"Draco, you can't just leave in the middle of—"

"Actually, I can." Draco interrupted, "And I'm about to."

He disappeared with a _crack_.

* * *

Unfortunately, it wasn't until he was on Goyle's doorstep in the snow that he remembered that he'd gone to Rome with his wife for a short vacation and wouldn't be back for another two weeks. After swearing profusely and then banging his head against the door for good measure he apparated to the next most logical place.

Pansy opened the door after two knocks and raised an eyebrow. "You know, Draco, I used to picture this moment, but to be honest right now I'm finding it a little pathetic."

He rolled his eyes, hands shoved as deep into his pockets as he could get them. "Pansy, the Draco-begging-for-you-back-on-your-doorstep joke got old after the first three times you used it."

She flashed him a smile, opening the door wider. "No, I think it will always be funny to me. What's going on?"

"Hermione and I had a fight." He walked in, wiping his feet on the carpet and waving at Anthony, Pansy's husband, from where he stood at the foot of the stairs.

"Bad enough that you _left_?" Her mouth fell open. "Has that ever happened?"

"No," he admitted grudgingly, shaking out his hair. "Look, I just need somewhere to stay tonight. Goyle's in Rome, and Blaise is still on his honeymoon. Can I stay?"

"Of course you can!" She was still watching him as if she expected him to self-destruct at any moment. "Anthony? Can you have Binkers make up a guest bedroom?" She eyed Draco. "Have him break up some tea."

"Thanks, Pans." He accepted her extended hug without resistance, eyes closing. The first few years after their break up had been rocky, mainly because things had ended badly and they'd both been horribly immature for their age, but then he'd gotten serious with Astoria and Pansy had met Anthony and it had gotten better.

"Tell me what happened," She said with a kind smile and they made their way up the stairs to the guest room.

There, sipping tea, he explained everything—including The Plan, which up until then he'd told no one. It had seemed too private to reveal and, to be honest, he'd been afraid it might not work when he'd crafted it—although the possibility of failure seemed more likely now.

Eventually he fell asleep with new resolve to make things up with Hermione and bring The Plan back on track. In retrospect, technically their fight did fit in with his intentions, but it hadn't happened the way he'd wanted. He'd been hoping for a somewhat silly fight about the way he squeezed the toothpaste bottle, or still refused to use the dishwasher. Not a rehashing of the problems they'd had to overcome, except with less success than the first time.

Unfortunately, Draco was not familiar with the expression that something must get worse before it gets better.

* * *

When he arrived home after work the next day, which he'd attended wearing an extra set of Anthony's robes, Hermione and Ginny were talking at the kitchen table. He hesitated in the doorway and then strode in because they'd obviously already seen him, and he supposed he just had to wait out Ginny's departure before he could begin the next part of The Plan.

"Hello," he said when neither of them spoke, stopping in front of the table to rest his hands on one of the empty chairs.

"I just have to use the loo," Ginny excused herself and an awkward silence followed her departure.

"Draco," Hermione began but he interrupted her, hoping to set them back on track.

"Wait, just listen. I, er, I wrote something for you." He pulled the list from his pocket, hoping that the idea worked in the situation as much as it had in the movie. "It's a list about, ah, the ten things I dislike about you."

Hermione made a noise in the back of her throat and he avoided looking at her, instead reading from the list in the hopes that she got what he was trying to say instead of just getting offended. "I dislike the way you wake up so early, so that when I wake up it's to an empty other half of the bed. I dislike the way you don't let me use sugar in my tea because you think honey tastes better. I dislike the way—"

At some point Hermione had stood up and now she snatched the paper from his hands, crumpling it. "That's_ enough_!" He was shocked to see that her eyes were brimming with tears and opened his mouth to apologize, to explain, to ask her to just let him hold her in his arms, but she kept talking. "Do you even _know_ the kind of day I had? I was up all night waiting for you to come back, and you never did. I was worried sick, because I remembered that Goyle had gone away and I didn't know where you went in the _cold_ and the _snow_. Then today at work I had to find out that you stayed with _Pansy_." She let out a tiny sob and pressed her fingers to her eyes, taking deep breaths.

"Then I get home and wait for you, only to have you show up with a list of things you don't like about me? How is that supposed to make me feel, Draco? You ran out on me to your ex's house." She cleared her throat and shook her head, her hair shimmying against her neck.

"Hermione, Pansy I were over eight years ago. She's married—happily so. She's my friend—she's _your _friend."

"That doesn't matter," she gave him a watery smile, but it was strained. "She was your girlfriend, you don't go to your old girlfriend's house."

"I'm sorry," he wanted to take her hand and hold it over his chest, to tell her that his heart was hers, that every beat belong to _her_, but instead he just kept talking. "I think there's just been a lot of miscommunicating these last few days. Let me explain."

"I, ah, I just need some time." Hermione blinked rapidly, turning her eyes from the floor to the ceiling, not looking at him. "I'm going to stay with Harry and Ginny this weekend. Just to get out of the apartment. A fresh perspective. We can talk after."

If someone had jumped out from behind the couch, tackled him to the floor, led a herd of stampeding stallions over him, buried him fifty feet underground, caused an earthquake to happen all around him and then dug him up only to repeat the process over again he didn't think he would feel worse than he did in that moment. "Hermione—"

"We should, ah, go." Ginny walked back into the kitchen, watching him.

Draco looked back and forth between them. "There's nothing I can do to convince you to stay and just talk?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's just a few days, Draco. I think we both need to remember why we're together, and figure out if…" She turned her head to the side, pressing it to her shoulder. "If we want to stay that way."

"I—" _Cocked this one up. _He paused and stared at her, at Hermione, the only woman he ever wanted to love for the rest of his life. Merlin, he wanted to take back the last few days and just take her somewhere nice and give her a romantic speech and ask to marry her right then and there, instead of making a mess of things.

"I'll see you in a few days," Hermione said and moved to the door. Ginny followed her, a bag thrown over her shoulder and gave Draco a tentative smile. The door closed.

"She doesn't even go here," he muttered under his breath and then collapsed into a chair, pressing his hands to his forehead.

* * *

Draco spend the remainder of the afternoon wondering if this was how Ian felt after Daphne left for America in _What a Girl Wants_. All he wanted to do was listen to sad music and watch a video montage of all the good times they'd had, interspersed with shots of him feeling lonely, thoughtful and depressed. That or play guitar and sing forlorn songs to express his sadness. Unfortunately, because their life wasn't a film and he wasn't a musician he resorted to flipping through Hermione's CDs for an appropriate one for the situation and ended up playing I Have Nothing by Whitney Houston on repeat.

"This is so melancholy," he said aloud and finished the bottle of wine off with one last gulp. Purely because it seemed like a good idea in _Catch and Release_, not to mention satisfying, he threw it against the wall. Apparently wine bottles were made of tougher stuff in real life, because it left a dent in their Baba Skidoosh paint and then fell to the carpet. "Bollocks," he muttered, hauling himself up from the couch. "S'not nearly as dramatic as when it shattered in that god-awful movie."

He walked through their flat slowly, his lips curling down as he arrived at their room. Draco supposed he could understand why separation was the crux of many good romance movies—it was complete rubbish. He'd never actually been away from Hermione because of a fight—business trips, maybe. When she'd visited her family in the first few months they'd been dating, yes. But this was so much worse because there was this unresolved tension that he couldn't fix and it was the only thing he could think about. He walked back to the kitchen and opened another bottle of wine.

It was then that he had a realization—he'd expected his plan to go off without a hitch, but what the plan needed to actually work _was_ for there to be a hitch. If he was in a movie and had decided to execute the perfect movie proposal it wouldn't have worked, because the not-working would have been the plot of the movie.

_I'm actually a genius_. The realization really shouldn't have come as such a surprise—he'd always been aware of his incredible intelligence, and of course he'd found his match in Hermione Granger, who was the brightest witch of their generation. He'd set up a plan that was doomed to fail but in doing so would ensure the success of the plan.

"What a mind warp!" He crowed, smiling as he refilled his empty wine glass with glee. So he began to do some serious thinking. His plan was actually going exactly right, so the next logical step was to go his and Hermione's favourite haunt. He would arrive, the snow falling poetically around his head, and then Hermione would arrive with her old Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her neck, as she did when she felt the need to return to something warm and comforting and _solid_. He would gather her in his arms and she would whisper about how she'd hoped he would be there and then they would get married and have the most intelligent and beautiful children in the history of wizarding Britain.

In ten minutes he was bundled up and standing outside of Calamady Coollie's Cupcakes, looking up and down the street. Hermione would probably arrive at any time, so he figured the best pose would be one that involved casual leaning and found the brick wall, his one arm poised over his head.

Twenty minutes later he was freezing his bloody arse off and she still hadn't arrived. The shop was only open until 10 O'clock, and that was because it also doubled as a café, so time was running short. He mumbled to himself a bit about how being a bit sloshed was supposed to keep one warm despite all other conditions. He paced back and forth along the sidewalk, ignoring the wary look a random passerby shot him.

Draco pulled out his cellphone and looked at it contemplatively, wondering if he should call her. In the end he shoved it back in his pocket. Phone calls were always portrayed as desperate, and he refused to be desperate. He was a stud. Instead, he resumed his leaning.

The snow fell thicker around him, nearly covering up the buildings surrounding him in a white blanket, and he blinked to keep his eyelashes from becoming a casualty of the frozen liquid. The sound of crunching snow alerted him to the presence of another and he whirled around, throwing an arm out. "I knew you'd come!"

"Wand down n—wait, _Draco_?" He realized with disappointment that it was actually just an intruder, Harry Potter, who had apparently brought Ron along with him.

"What are you doing here?" His fingers felt funny at the tip so he blew his hot breath over them, wrinkling his nose at the smell of wine.

"Calamady floo'd us because there was a suspicious figure lurking outside her shop," the two came closer, slipping their wands into their pockets. Ron was peered intently at him. "We said we'd come check it out."

"A suspicious figure?" He exclaimed, eyebrows raised. "I didn't see anyone! Did you find 'em?"

"It was you, Draco." Harry said in a voice that was half-amused and half-irritated. "What are you doing out here? It's bloody freezing."

"Executing the next level of my plan." As soon as he realized what he'd said he gasped and covered his mouth. "Nahh, I'm joking! There is no plan!"

"Are you drunk?" Ron asked him, glancing at Harry with drawn eyebrows. "C'mon, mate. You know better than to hang around here sloshed."

"Actually, no." He raised a hand in the air and waved it in front of Ron's face. "In _Raise Your Voice_ getting drunk is an important part of the romance, so you're wrong."

"Er, what?"

Harry squinted at him. "Are you talking about a film?"

"What are you talking about films for? That's very random of you, Potter. Very random, indeed."

"Let's get you home." Ron reached out and rested his hand on Draco's shoulder. "I'll side-along him, just to be sure there are no accidents."

"Good idea." Harry disappeared with a _crack_ and then the world shimmied and swayed around him, reforming itself as his living room.

"What were you even doing?"

He began to tug at his clothing, trying to get it off as quickly as possible because the temperature change from the cold outside to inside was immense. "Waiting for Hermione."

As he pulled his jacket off over his head he missed the look that the two exchanged. "Was she going to meet you there?"

"She was s'posed to," he muttered and wandered to the couch, collapsing on top of it.

"Er, you know she's staying with Ginny and I for a few days?" Harry spoke tentatively, feeling the words out before he spoke them as if that somehow made what he was saying less awkward.

"Yes."

"Did she say she would meet you?"

"No." His voice was bordering the kind of petulance he would've expected from a child and he sighed into the armrest, clutching a pillow.

"Then why—"

"Because, that's what happens in movies! Something goes wrong but there's a chance meeting at a significant-to-them place and they realize they can overcome and then it's all fine! It's in films, and it was going to happen."

There was a short silence and then he heard Ron whisper to Harry. "What's he talking about films for?"

"Draco," Harry began and then paused. Draco cringed inwardly, because he was so not in the mood for any kind of bro advice Harry was going to offer. "Movies are made up. What happens in them isn't real, that's why people like them. You can't base your life off them—"

"I know what they are, you prat." _Well, fuck_. Now he was lashing out at Hermione's best friends, which didn't exactly make him look good. Not to mention that he'd grown quite fond of Harry and Ron, although they occasionally bickered.

"We just pulled your arse off the street and saved you a trip to the Ministry, if Calamady had called in the Aurors on duty, first. We're also sitting here talking to you right now, even though our best friend arrived at Harry's upset about you being a prick to her." Ron's voice was heated and Draco lifted his head up to look at him through half-lidded eyes. "Stop being such a wanker and accept that you cocked up, instead of trying to play it off as some romanticized movie thing. If you want Hermione to stay with you, pull your head out of your arse and start acting like a man."

Draco felt rather as if someone had taken a very, very heavy rock and dropped it on top of his stomach. Instead of answering he lay in silence, staring across the room to the floor. There was another moment of silence and then the pair got up to leave. The last thing he heard was Harry answering affirmative to Ron's inquiry about whether they would be attending his mother's brunch on Sunday. Then the room fell silent.

* * *

Saturday morning was a blur of aching, nausea and moping. By the afternoon he'd resorted to staring at the ceiling and mulling over what Ron and Harry had said. Of course he knew movies weren't real, and that it wasn't wise to base one's life around them, especially given how some of them ended up turning out. When he'd watched The Break Up, he certainly hadn't expected them to _actually_ break up, and frankly he thought they had done a shoddy job of the ending.

By nightfall he was beginning to question whether or not it was even possible to avoid falling into some kind of movie template. If he decided to throw all caution to the wind and just do what his heart told him he would turn into a romantic cliché about someone who'd reached the end of their rope and turned into a quirky risk-taker who lived life in the moment. If he stuck to his original plan he would become the success story who'd stuck to what he thought he knew and it had paid off in the end. That, or the tragedy about the man who hadn't realized soon enough that he was already everything his partner wanted and, in changing himself, had changed their relationship permanently.

There was also about an hour where he became very philosophical and started to question whether God existed and had taken to muttering "Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?" under his breath. After it was over, however, he would block that time completely from his memory and successfully forget his epistomological crisis.

As the clock struck midnight he had barely moved, and wouldn't have been surprised if he'd suddenly started wearing grey sweatpants, a white t-shirt with grease stains on it that stretched over his beer belly and had a beard coming in. It seemed that every possible outcome he could think of fell into some kind of movie plot category and he resorted to mulling over his failed execution of the You've Got Mail based scheme. It was there that he realized the problem.

In one of her messages, shopgirl had said that so much of what she saw in life reminded her of what she'd read, and wondered if it wasn't true that it should have been the opposite. Draco realized that he'd been wrong about the true value of movies. They mirrored real life—real life didn't mirror them. People went to see films because they recognized aspects of themselves, their relationships, their heartaches, their failures in the plotlines and in the interactions. Draco was making the cardinal mistake of trying to relate himself to the movies, as opposed to relating the movies to him.

Everything was beginning to make sense and he nearly floo'd to Harry and Ginny's house right then and there. Instead he took several deep breaths and cleaned himself up. He spent the rest of the night and much of the early hours of the morning trying to fall asleep and stop thinking about his newly reformed plan.

* * *

Mid-morning Sunday he stood by the front door of his house, adjusting his tie in the mirror in preparation for his visit. He knew that he probably should have waited until Hermione, Harry and Ginny had returned home from The Burrow—where he assumed they were, given the brief slip of conversation he'd heard between Ron and Harry. But the desire to see her and explain everything—his own stupidity, his own love, his scheme, _everything_—was so strong it was nearly an ache.

When he apparated into The Burrow's kitchen, an action he was only allowed because the wards had been adjusted after he and Hermione had moved in together, he realized that waiting may have been the best idea. What incidentally appeared to be the entire Weasley clan and any spouses and children froze upon his entrance in an almost comical fashion.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to be in the process of both crushing her daughter and Harry into a hug whilst wiping away tears as her husband looked on with pride. Ron had his mouth full of some kind of food and resembled a hamster, while the rest of the group were in positions of both joy and shock, depending on their reaction time. Hermione, who had been beaming at her two friends who had without a doubt just revealed their happy news turned when she noticed the expressions of those around her. Her mouth fell open as she laid eyes on him and a strangled "Draco?" emerged.

"I see you've heard the happy news," he laughed awkwardly and hastily tried to turn it into a cough when no one followed suit. Abandoning the pretense of this being a friendly pop in, which he suspected none of them would have believed in the first place, he strode forward until he stood in front of Hermione and she turned more fully in her chair. "Hermione, I love you."

"_Draco_," her face was flushed and she kept her voice down, although the room was so quiet she may as well have shouted. "This is not the time."

"Yes, it is." He insisted, slipping one of his hands into his suit pocket. "When we're eighty and reflecting on our lives, I don't want to look back on these moments and wonder why I waited to come talk to you. I don't want to lay on my deathbed and add these moments to the times of my life that I regret because I wasn't spending them with you."

Molly was slowly detracting herself from Harry and Ginny, covering her mouth as she watched the proceedings. At some point Ron must have swallowed, because his face had returned to its normal size. That was the only thing that had really changed, though, and the entire family was watching. Draco gulped.

"I am so in love with you, that I thought it would be a good idea to take lessons from films that I know you've watched on the best way to be romantic," he explained and shot a glare in the general direction of the snort that followed the statement. "I made a list of the things that worked in movies, and decided to use what I could in general practice."

"And this list included ignoring me and reciting a list of things you hate about me?" Her voice was cool but her eyes were at the precise level of wideness that they only achieved when she was grudgingly interested.

"It worked for Mr. Bingley and that girl from 10 Things I Hate About You!" He answered quickly and then shook his head. Not the point. She stood up and, because he wasn't sure if she intended to leave or usher him to a more private location he hurried on, unwilling to take the chance. "Clearly my plan went off track at some point—"

"Clearly. Even if your plan _was_ made with the best intentions, don't you think it's important to note that that was all it took for our relationship to return to unsteady ground? I love you, Draco, but I deserve better than to stay with someone when our relationship's apparently solid foundations turn to puddy in approximately two days, and so do you. I—"

"Do you _ever_ stop talking, woman?" He realized a little later that something more along the lines of 'I love the sound of your voice but right now I think your mind would be best employed in listening, not gracing all those around us with the sound of your eloquent speaking' would have been a nicer thing to say. Nevertheless, he distantly heard another laugh from somewhere in the room, but couldn't spare a glance to see where it came from.

"Do you _see_? Things got a bit rocky and I feel like we've just become seventeen again, and we're in school and any sort of relationship is the least probable thing either of us has ever thought of doing, other than maybe—" Her sentence petered off and she came to a stuttering halt as he dropped to one knee. The air in the kitchen seemed to grow infinitely thicker and he was fairly certain someone squeaked, although he couldn't tell if it was a Weasley, Potter, Hermione or even himself.

"I was trying to hide the fact that I want to marry you." Trying to win her over with niceties and long speeches was clearly not effective, so he spoke as bluntly as he could. She stared at him, a hand over her mouth. "I was afraid you would realize that and it would ruin the surprise and I think I inadvertently started acting the opposite way I felt as a counter-measure against discovery. I want to marry you more than I've ever wanted anything and I thought that to get you to agree I would need to work harder than I ever have and somehow that translated into our lives becoming some kind of movie and it was a horrible idea, I realize that now."

_Oh, fuck it, I can't tell if those are happy tears or not. _He hesitated and pulled his hand out of his pocket, suppressing a frown when an almost disappointed gasp went around the room when it turned out he was holding a piece of paper. "I, er, prepared this. It's sort of an adaptation of the other list I wrote, but it's more straight to the point. I, ah, love the way you have a special pair of pajama pants that you wear when you've won an important case, and that you tuck the legs into your socks so that you can dance around the house. I love the way you care endlessly about your work and job and the people who you help, but that at the end of the day there's still room in your heart to care about me."

His eyes flickered up to her and he coughed as his knee began to ache. He had obviously acknowledged that there was a chance this would fail—there was always a chance of failure in anything. He just hadn't quite realized that the failure could take place in a room full of Weasleys and Potters, while he was on one knee, confessing his deepest feelings for her. "I love the way you sometimes send me memos when we're both at work, just to let me know you're thinking about me. I love the fact that you kept the S.P.E.W jar, as well as the badges and all the signatures and that you think I don't know that you sometimes take it out and read the list over again. I love the fact that I know you would turn our flat into a small cardboard box if you thought it would set everything in the Wizarding World right again. I love that I would live in that goddamn cardboard box with you, if it meant I could spend the rest of my life with you. I love—"

"Ask me." She cut in, her voice trembling, and Draco raised his head to look at her.

"What?"

"Just ask me." She repeated as a smile broke over her face, tears pooling in her eyes.

It took him approximately one second to realize what she meant and he dropped the paper to the floor and pulled the box out of his pocket. He opened it, extending the ring to her, and whispered, "Hermione Granger, will you be my wife?"

Her eyes had never once flickered from his face and she reached out to take the box, setting it on the table beside her, and then dropped to her knees and threw her arms around his neck. "Yes," she murmured, her wet eyelashes brushing his skin. "I will. I will."

The room broke into applause and Draco jumped, startled. Hermione laughed against him and he stood, bringing her up with him, and kissed her heartily on the mouth.

In later years, Draco would claim he had always planned to do it at a Weasley family brunch, just so they could have cheering and applause when he succeeded. What he wouldn't tell anyone, however, was that having the entire brood of Weasleys creating a ruckus all around him reminded him incredibly vividly of the scene in Legally Blonde when Elle received her LSAT score. At one point he did tell Hermione that he was fairly certain that marrying her was ten times the success of Elle's 179, but when she had simply stared at him he'd changed the topic hastily.

Yes, there were many aspects of Draco's twenty-seven year old life that he'd never anticipated. Perhaps the first and foremost was his incredible and unadulterated happiness. He'd never imagined that at twenty-seven he would have an entire life of memories with Hermione Granger to expect. It only proved that, as countless films had attempted to illustrate, there was such a thing as a happy ending, even after the limo drove away, the flowers wilted, and the music stopped playing.

**Author's Note: I'm actually quite pleased with how this turned out. I'm used to attempting one-shots that turn into 60 page monstrosities that never end and always end up twisting and turning out of my control. While I admit this wasn't _quite_ the story I anticipated (there were less tears in my imagination) it mostly sticks to what I had in mind.**

**That being said, I hope you enjoyed. The idea came to me after I saw The Vow in the form of Draco waiting outside a shop for Hermione to show, irritated by the fact that if he was in a movie she would already be there, and nearly being arrested because he seemed like a shady lurking figure. I started thinking about it, and then came up with a backstory and started writing.**

**So thank you for reading, and don't hesitate to drop a review. Replies are guaranteed, often with uncontrollable and excessive exclamation points (seriously, though). **


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